More thoughts of Scottish history remembered in song again this time. One of my favourite rainy day books (and today is a very rainy day) is Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886). It’s set in 1751, in the aftermath of the 1745 Jacobite uprising and the defeat of the Jacobite army at Culloden in 1746. As the subtitle tells it,

‘Being Memoirs of the Adventures of David Balfour in the Year 1751:

How he was kidnapped and cast away; his sufferings on a desert isle; his journey in the west highlands; his acquaintance with Alan Breck Stewart and other notorious highland Jacobites; with all that he suffered at the hands of his uncle, Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws, falsely so-called; written by himself and now set forth

By

Robert Louis Stevenson’

Kidnapped is also a story of a nation, one divided by religion, by politics and by geography, in the aftermath of war. David…

Here we are on our next stop on the Haunted House Virtual Tour (by kind permisson of Gwen Perkins), to promote our ghost novellas Blind and Ungentle Sleep (by V.R.Christensen and B.Lloyd respectively), where we ‘visit’ one of the famous houses in ‘mock’ gothic literature: this time, you can try guessing the place from the anagram at the beginning, or wait until you have read to the end …

The Anagram: Cats rant foot to heel

***

Grunt, umph, ouch.

Bump.

Scritch, scratch, rumph,umph.

Bump.

‘Right lads,’ said Geremia, standing back and wiping the sweat from his brow, ‘I think that will do. The Master didn’t specify exactly which way it should be facing.’

‘Hideous great thing it is, too,’ puffed one of the workmen, bending over with hands on hips.

‘Ay, it is – what passes for taste among the gentry, so keep a civil tongue in your head…

Why was the Duke Saltimbocca enraged at dinner? Find out at our next trot around one of the better known locations from the past, as always with links to the two novellas, at : http://gwenperkins.wordpress.com

From the 23rd to 29th September, Ungentle Sleep will be hosted via Tourz de Codex on the following dates :

When my father left this world I was just seventeen, and any exciting opportunities for my advancement that had existed up to that point evaporated like water sprayed on to the courtyard dust in our hot Toledan courtyard.

I was still an unmade youth, uncertain of much except a determination to avoid the one avenue that remained open, if unappealing. I had had enough of priests and their curious mixture of sanctimony and retribution. I would not willingly submit to becoming one myself, a position I quickly sensed was irritating the other occupants in the cool shady retiring room which looked out over the gardens beside the house. The intensity of their conversation – I was the subject, but not required as a participant – contrasted with the dreamy sounds and scents of summer that wafted through the wooden grill work.

I was at a folk festival a couple of weeks ago and Ioscaid were playing. I hadn’t heard them before but hope I will again very soon. One of the songs in their set seemed familiar enough to start with, being a tale of a young sailor led astray by strong drink and a pretty face. As always, he wakes in the morning having lost his money and his clothes. In this version of the song, however, he finds something as well, a shaving kit. A close shave indeed: as well for him he ‘fell asleep before she earned her fee’.

There’s quite a lot of cross-dressing in folk songs. Usually it’s women dressing as men and serving as sailors or soldiers. This is not without real life precedent: Hannah Snell served in India, concealing her sex despite being wounded in battle, and was paid an army pension after her…